


There Are More Than Thirty-Two Ways to Tie a Cravat

by Styfas



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Fade to Black, I rated it E but it might really be M, M/M, Sex Talk, Talk of Anal Sex, Talk of Blow Job, Talk of Hand Job, Talk of Light Bondage, Talk of Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styfas/pseuds/Styfas
Summary: Harry Goodsir brings a booklet about cravat-tying with him for his night’s visit to Thomas Jopson.  He expresses interest in trying something different together; something new, something fun.  Thomas would like to try something different, too – and it would also involve tying cravats…Terror Bingo:  CravatThe Terror Rarepair Week 2021:  Feb. 14 "free space"(I try to make it a point to not have two fics at a time on page one  - BUT this is an exception. I'm taking advantage of rarepare Free Space day to get this out, because I have way too many fics sitting in AO3 drafts right now.  :)
Relationships: Harry D. S. Goodsir/Thomas Jopson
Kudos: 5
Collections: The Terror Bingo, The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	There Are More Than Thirty-Two Ways to Tie a Cravat

**Author's Note:**

> 1.As always, I thank [Drac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drac), who introduced me to The Terror in the first place, and who support me by reading (not exactly beta reading, but "filtering" - if that makes sense) my supposed final versions of fics. 🧡 
> 
> 2\. I wasn't sure how to rate this: M or E? Sorry if I've over-rated it.... 
> 
> 3\. Harry Goodsir and Thomas Jopson are both adorable - and thus, I ship them. Fight me! 🤣
> 
> 4\. DISCLAIMERS: I do/did not know the real Harry Goodsir or Thomas Jopson; RIP to both. 💔 Their corresponding "characters" from AMC The Terror belong to AMC, writers, producers, actors, and anyone else who had anything whatsoever to do with that TV programme.
> 
> 5\. This is fiction, and I am not making any money from this.
> 
> 6\. Some of you may be familiar with the booklet described in the fic. It's out there; Google it!

Thomas Jopson’s evening is about to get brighter: Here comes Harry Goodsir, fresh from Erebus, lowering his muffler and revealing his smile. He’s scurrying down the hallway leading to the Great Cabin to visit Thomas, as he has for ten consecutive nights since they declared their love for one another.

“Thomas! Look at this booklet I found in Mr. Bridgens’ lending library!”

Thomas laughs. “What happened to _‘Hello, how was your day?’_ ” The pair enter the Great Cabin, and Thomas slides the door closed. 

Harry holds up his acquisition, wide-eyed and grinning. “ _The Art of Tying the Cravat._ It’s a manual, and it’s illustrated! We’ve both discovered that I’m dreadful at playing chess, so I thought we might do something different tonight.” 

Thomas smiles; Harry’s enthusiasm is always charming. Something different, the man says? Thomas will make sure of it. He’ll be happy to tie cravats tonight – but not in the way Harry’s proposing…

Harry pulls off his gloves and mittens and tosses them to the table, then turns his attention back to the booklet, flipping excitedly through the pages and unfolding diagram pages. “Look at this! And this! Oh – and don’t these look interesting?“

“Shhh! Slow down! Put that on the table and let me help you off with your coat.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask about your day yet. How was it?”

“Not bad, thank you. But it’s much better now that you’re here.”

Harry responds by leaning into Thomas and giving him a kiss. “I’ve missed you so since last night.” He sets down the booklet, removes his Welsh wig, and runs his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up and allowing tousled curls to spill out along his temples and forehead. It’s a sight that makes Thomas’ stomach do flip-flops. Harry’s gorgeous; his hair disheveled as if he’d just rolled out of bed after a vigorous shagging. And oh, those warm brown eyes that seem to look right into one’s soul… 

“Thomas? Did you want to take care of my coat, then? Or shall I do it?”

Thomas unbuttons and slides the coat off, thinking about how much more of Harry’s clothing he’ll be removing tonight. All of it, in truth. And after he gets him naked, he’ll… 

“See?” Harry picks up the booklet again and points at key words on the title page. “ _Thirty-two different styles_ , Thomas!” He shoves it into his lover's hands. “I’ve looked through them already, and we won’t be able to try them all, because for some you need starched fabric, or horsehair, or a whalebone stiffener – and we have none of those – but there are still plenty of styles we could try.”

As Harry rambles on, Thomas concentrates on his sparkling eyes and dazzling smile. It’s a smile that he thinks not many on the ships have been privileged to see. He knows that Harry’s duties and demeanor in the sick bay must be all formality. He’s heard from several men on Erebus that the man has an unparalleled compassion, which is an important quality to have for the work he performs, but Thomas also knows that because of it, others’ troubles can often weigh heavily on him. No wonder Harry enjoys their watercolour classes and secret trysts so much; they’re lighthearted moments in otherwise serious days, bless him. 

Thomas hands the booklet back to his lover. “Harry, I think tonight you and I-”

Harry rifles through the pages as he speaks. “Let’s forget all this introductory text about the history of the cravat and get to the fun stuff.”

“Yes, we’ll do that.” Thomas will guarantee that they’ll both be having fun tonight. “I think you’d-”

“Ah, here we are,” Harry says in triumph. “ _‘The Art of Putting on the Cravat._ ’”

“But you already know how. Yours is always tied so nicely.”

“Yours, too,” Harry says, unfolding a diagram page. “But still, I’d like to try something new.”

“I was thinking we both could-” 

“Look at this one: _En cascade_. Isn’t it elegant? Oh, and this one: _Cravate en Coquille,_ which, when finished, is supposed to have the appearance of a shell. Shall we both try the same one? Would you like to choose?”

Thomas sets his hands on top of Harry’s and looks into his eyes. “I think we should-”

“Or you try one, and I’ll try the other?”

“I’d love to try tying-”

“Maybe I could tie yours, and you could tie mine. Which one would you like to try?”

“Close the manual, please,” Thomas says gently.

“Why?” Harry asks with a hint of a frown.

Thomas smiles. He guides Harry’s hands to the table, saying, “Set it down.” Harry obeys.

Thomas finally has his full attention, and he celebrates by giving him a kiss; the first step in his plan. “Now. The most important thing to know about tying a cravat is that one must begin with one that’s _untied._ ” He sets his fingers on Harry’s perfectly tied cravat and gently works at the knot; gradually loosening it, slipping folds of fabric through loops, and opening it fully until it’s a piece of oblong fabric evenly draped like a choirboy’s stole around Harry’s neck. 

Harry’s smile has returned. He finishes the job by slipping the cravat off.

“I’ll take that, thank you very much,” Thomas says, quickly snatching the cravat out from between Harry’s fingers and claiming it for his own. “You may take mine off now, if you like.”

Harry obliges, his cheeks lifting and turning pink. He loosens the tie steadily, but much more slowly than Thomas did for his. So cute he is, thinking _he’ll_ be the expert at teasing in this scenario. He’ll soon find out that he couldn’t be more wrong; just wait until they close the door to Thomas’ cabin. When Harry’s finished, Thomas takes the cravat from his hand and stuffs both into a trouser pocket.

Now to get Harry more relaxed. Thomas likes to snog with him for minutes on end, timing his breath so that he’s gently exhaling when Harry’s inhaling. It cuts off Harry’s air – but just a touch; enough to make him delightfully drowsy and receptive. They snog, lips parted, tongues gently dipping into each other’s mouths at first, then going deeper. Whenever Harry comes up for air, he looks happily intoxicated; his beautiful brown eyes heavy-lidded and his often-furrowed brow totally relaxed.

Thomas proceeds to free Harry’s top three shirt buttons from their buttonholes, then sets his lips against his neck, eliciting a soft moan. He delivers a line of kisses, interspersed with soft nibbles here and there, from neck to shoulder line, collarbone, upper chest, and then in reverse order, ending at his ear. “I have several cravats in my cabin,” Thomas whispers, “and I know exactly how to tie them. Effectively.”

Harry eases back a step, still love-drunk. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Well, Bunny, it means that one needn’t always tie a cravat around a shirt collar.” He touches his lips against Harry’s in a soft kiss, lingering for a moment to let the man think about what he just said.

Harry withdraws from the kiss and offers a coy smile. “How else would _you_ tie a cravat – or cravats _plural_ , Thomas?”

The little flirt: he _knows,_ but he wants to play naïve and hear it said. Very well, Thomas will satisfy the man’s desire. “Well… I would tie cravats – _plural –_ together, and then bind your ankles. Then I’d do the same for your wrists. Or I could tie your ankles and wrists to other surfaces; table legs, chair legs, for instance.” Thomas goes in for another long kiss, then adds, “This would all be after I get you naked, of course.”

Harry smiles and nods, still with that silly sleepy look on his face. “Of course.” He lowers his gaze to the floor – and oh, that shy and airy laugh; it’s the one that never fails to send a shock wave straight to Thomas’ cock. 

“But I’m probably talking too much,” Thomas says.

Harry looks up again and shakes his head. “What would happen next?” he asks, following up with another cock-teasing airy chuckle. ”Tell me. Please.” 

“I would administer torture of the most exquisite kind,” Thomas says. “I could lick and kiss every inch of you, from head to toe. Maybe I’d give you a full-body massage. Oh – and did you know I took a paintbrush from class one day? It’s one of the larger ones – and it’s very soft. Good for tickling you, nice and slow; your nipples, the insides of your thighs, and so on. Or I could wet it. Wouldn’t a soft, wet paintbrush feel good going up and down your cock? Circling around the length of it? Tickling the head? Straight lines, circles, zig-zags…”

Harry shudders in Thomas’ embrace.

Thomas continues in his most enticing voice. “I’ll likely give you a hand job. Or a blow job.”

Harry’s sigh is very much like a moan.

“And I will _definitely_ fuck you.”

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat. When he finally swallows, it’s a louder gulp than he might have intended Thomas to hear. But Thomas does hear it. 

“Cravats can make excellent blindfolds, too,” Thomas adds matter-of-factly.

“This is getting better and better.” And it’s that gentle laugh again… 

Thomas releases Harry from the embrace. “Shall we go to my cabin now?”

“Yeah. We’re talking too much.” Harry bolts for the door.

“When we get there,” Thomas says, “let me know whether you’d like a blindfold or not. The blindfold is optional tonight. The ankle and wrist restraints are not.” 

“We’re going now, then?” Harry stands with his hand on the sliding door, ready to exit. 

Thomas meets him at the door and slides it open. Harry speeds down to the cabin ahead of him and stands at the door, grinning, his face in full blush. He’s ready for something different. Something new.

So is Thomas

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Goodsir and Thomas Jopson are both cute and adorable, and thus, I happily ship them. 💗
> 
> Oh - and the pet name Bunny? I do plan to explain in another fic at some point. :) I'm writing these scenarios all out of order - and I realize it comes out of nowhere in this fic. 🤣


End file.
